


Symbiosis

by wonderluck



Category: Alien Quadrilogy (Movies), Alien Series
Genre: F/F, First Time, Kissing, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderluck/pseuds/wonderluck
Summary: Call and Ripley were two people who couldn’t be classified as people, one of them with acid blood and the other with manufactured feelings. It made sense, in a way.
Relationships: Annalee Call/Ellen Ripley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	Symbiosis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marginalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/gifts).



Call had existed as a specter among the living. She’d shadowed humans, had studied them like she was preparing to become human herself—to ascend. She looked like one, spoke like one, had their mannerisms, but she could not dream and she could not drown. 

At least her heart was real. Sort of. The muscle was grown in a lab, 3D printed with four perfect chambers and chalk white like the rest of her insides. Plastic blood. Plastic veins. She was not the brilliant, living red inside like the people around her. Her heart, powered by her battery, was more an experiment by her creators than a necessity for her existence, but the First Gens were nothing if not ambitious. 

They had provided their creations with traits not given to them: variable core beliefs, complex personalities, emotions. But they withheld speed. They bestowed pain. They gave her a belief in a god whose afterlife was closed to her. It seemed her creators did not want to be bested by their offspring. Perhaps it was a directive from their human supervisors they could not ignore. In the end, it just felt spiteful.

Since the purge on LX-469, Call lived only on ships, never staying too long, never letting anyone close enough to clock her for something other than human. She had hoped to experience Earth in lush greens and blues, but for the first time since she met him, Johner had not exaggerated a bit. The land and sky on Earth were overwhelmingly gray-brown. Call knew there had been plentiful amounts of water here once—water, birds, flowers, _life_ —but all around her the landscape was parched dust and heat. Even her mouth and eyes felt dry, though her body’s moisture, like the breath she took without lungs, was for show. A trick. 

Earth's sun was still the color and intensity of flame, and she stared at it openly as the crew shielded their eyes. When Call tried to lighten the disappointed mood settling over them, Johner swore and left in a huff, slapping the side of the Betty before disappearing inside.

They were still shaky after eluding death more than once in the last twelve hours. Ripley maintained her quiet cool, but Call sensed her discomfort, just under the surface. Behind her eyes, maybe. Call joined Ripley as she sat with her back against the Betty.

"Do you remember this place?" Call asked. 

"Not like this," Ripley answered as she stared into the middle distance. 

Call waited for Ripley to continue, and when she did not, Call got to her feet.

"You should rest," she said. "I'll get started on this." She scanned the damage the ship had incurred, identified the weak spots.

It was understood that they could not stay on Earth. The planet was dead. It was miraculous that Johner and Vriess could breathe the atmosphere at all. 

Call repaired the ship while her crewmates slept. She would wake one of them after sunset to keep watch. Repairing the left engine proved to be the biggest job. 

The sun provided a few final rays when she heard footsteps behind her. Call ducked out from behind the engine and removed her welding goggles.

“Where to?” Ripley asked.

Call looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean where are we going when the ship is ready?"

"How should I know?" Call asked. "Where do you want to go?"

"You want me to direct a ship that isn't even mine? I don't think so."

Call paused and stuffed her hands in her pockets. She hadn't made any plans beyond getting the Betty flying again.

"What were you doing before you tried to kill me?” Ripley asked with smirk. 

Call would be stuck with that little detail for a while. It's not like she knew what she was doing, really, but she would never tell Ripley that.

“I was... I was looking for my kind.”

Ripley shrugged. “Then we'll do that,” she said. 

___

It took a week of around the clock work to get the Betty off-planet.

Between shifts, between meals and sleep and endless void beyond their windows, they learned. Ripley taught Call how to fly the ship. Call liked the feel of the controls in her hands, the precision it took. Call told Ripley the high points of the last 200 years: wars and alliances, creation and destruction. 

“And here I thought there was a little hope that humanity wouldn’t repeat their mistakes,” Ripley said, disappointed.

“At least they’re consistent,” Call said, and Ripley laughed. 

Call wanted to ask about Ripley’s memories, but didn’t want to push. She did not need to know about the fear and death that pervaded the final years of the previous Ripley’s life—she had experienced enough of her own.

Ripley seemed to remember Newt, but not the daughter she’d left behind on Earth. Call didn’t mention her.

Ripley had frequent nightmares, loud enough to wake Call and sometimes Vriess. Call would always check on her and hover near the edge of Ripley’s bed. Eventually, Ripley asked her to sit beside her. To stay a while. And that’s when she would share what she remembered.

___

Johner was still twitchy around Ripley.

”You sure we should keep her on?” he said over dinner one night, as if Ripley wasn’t in the room. He had never been one to keep his thoughts to himself, even when it caused a problem where there wasn’t one. He turned to Ripley. “Seems like on half your missions, your friends end up as alien food, and you’re the only one who makes it out alive.”

Call was livid. “Johner, shut the fuck up—”

She didn’t get to finish because Ripley was on him in an instant. Her arm closed around his throat as she dragged him out of his seat, baring her teeth. 

“Ripley!” Call cried out as she rushed to her feet. She knew Ripley could break his neck without much effort. “Let him go!”

Vriess shouted from the table. Call couldn’t fit her fingers between Ripley’s arm and Johner’s throat. She pulled at Ripley’s biceps. “Ripley, come on!” she pleaded.

Ripley held on another moment as Johner wheezed for breath. His feet scrambled beneath him, trying to stand. Ripley dropped him to the ground. She stalked out of the room without a word.

From then on, Johner kept his distance.

___

Sparring in the cargo bay was one of Ripley's gentle suggestions.

"You'll get us killed if you can't put up a fight," Ripley said. 

"Wow, thanks," Call replied as she glared at Ripley. "I can handle myself."

Ripley removed her vest and tossed it to the floor. "You got caught more than once on the Auriga." 

There was no edge to Ripley's words, not today. This was pure, unfiltered observation, and while some people might welcome it, Call liked her honesty a little less brutal. 

"I can fight. I'm stronger than I look,” Call spat back. Even if Ripley wasn't intentionally needling her, it still pissed her off.

She tossed a set of hand wraps at Ripley before unraveling her own. Call wrapped the cloth around her hands without having to look. Ripley furrowed her brow as she slowly wrapped her palm in layer after layer. 

Call rolled her eyes. "You're doing it wrong." She walked over to interrupt her. "Here," she said as she took the wrap from Ripley. "Hand out, palm down." She started at Ripley's thumb before anchoring her wrist. From there, she looped around her thumb again and wound the fabric across Ripley's palm. She noticed goose bumps prickling Ripley's forearm as she wrapped Ripley's knuckles. Curious.

"Spread your fingers," Call said, and Ripley complied.

She had threaded the fabric between two of Ripley's fingers when she heard a soft exhale above her. She stopped. Looked up. Ripley was staring at her, not her hands, but at Call. Call held her gaze, puzzling out what exactly was happening, as she continued wrapping the rest of her fingers, slower now, smoothing the cloth out. She listened for Ripley's heartbeat and found that it sped up with each revolution. Call grazed her fingertips across Ripley's palm before securing the fabric at her wrist. Ripley licked her bottom lip. That's when Call looked away.

Call cleared her throat. "Think you can do the other one?"

Ripley nodded and got to work. Call busied herself while she waited and she tightened the laces on her boots three times before she dared to look up.

Ripley smiled at her, but it was more goading than friendly. “Come on. Show me you can throw that punch again.”

Call had bloodied Wren’s nose. Easily. Men, especially men of his height, would not expect violence from an engineer her size. 

Call squared up. “When I kick your ass, just remember this was your idea,” she said with a mocking grin of her own.

Ripley took her stance and motioned Call forward. Call threw a straight punch. Ripley dodged. Call followed with an uppercut and a quick shot to Ripley’s torso. That one connected. Ripley held her side briefly before returning her own barrage. Half of Ripley's strikes missed as Call used her height to her advantage. Call advanced again. She calculated Ripley's next move and threw successful combinations. 

Ripley made a frustrated noise, summoned from deep in her chest, and Call didn't see it coming: Ripley swept Call’s leg out from under her, toppling her onto her back. She pinned Call with her body, to contain her. Call was trapped under Ripley’s weight. Ripley smirked at her, pressing her forearm firmly across Call’s collarbone. Call stared with wide eyes. She struggled. 

“You have to push up and buck me off,” Ripley said.

Call chewed on her bottom lip as she plotted her escape. Maybe she didn't want to escape. What would happen if she just softened in defeat? Instead, Call brought one leg up quickly and planted her boot in Ripley's stomach, kicking her off. Call followed Ripley as she landed on her back and fell onto her, taking both wrists in her hands. 

"Does this mean I win?" Call asked, ready to claim victory. 

Ripley glanced from one wrist to the other, then Call's face again. She smiled slowly. "Something like that," Ripley said. 

Call heard hesitant footsteps in the hallway, followed by Johner's voice. "Newsflash, ladies, we're about a day from Yautja," he called out as he reached the doorway. 

Call released Ripley and propelled herself backward. "Good session. Okay." She felt warm all over and lost the rest of her words in her scramble to get to her feet. For the first time ever, she felt light-headed. She made for the doorway, brushing past Johner, and didn't look back. 

Call wouldn't get any sleep that night.

___

The mission on Yautja was a fucking disaster.

They made it back to the ship with low ammo and no answers. Vriess had them back in the air, dodging the shots from the ground with moderate success.

Call was on the floor of the ship holding her leg together. She whimpered in pain.

Ripley spoke, soft but urgent. "I can fix this. If you switch off, it won't be as bad."

Removing her chip was the only way to fully power down. She’d never done it, never needed to. It was a little like dying—a pre-death—and she hated the idea of it. Call reached for Ripley's hand and squeezed it in her own. "Back in a minute, right?" 

"Right." 

Call paused before she reached behind her ear to the ridge of artificial bone and pushed. There was a soft click. A circular seam began to appear. The covering lifted up at a 90-degree angle to reveal her chip. 

"Neat trick," Ripley said, trying to keep things light, but Call was too afraid. 

Call hesitated another moment before she reached for her chip. A twist, a pull, then nothing.

The next thing Call felt was pressure behind her ear, heard her name spoken once, far away, before everything went dark. 

There it was again: _Call._ More urgent this time, closer, but muffled as if spoken behind glass. 

Then silence.

She heard record skips of sentences: _Come on! How_ —

Darkness.

 _What’s the trick, Call?_ The speaker’s voice quavered. Call felt moisture on her cheeks, clicking in her skull, then the void once more.

Call had no idea how much time had passed when she blinked awake. Her skin felt cold, and she shivered as her system raised her body temperature. Ripley was above her, smiling, wiping at her eyes. Call could see that she had been crying. Ripley cupped Call’s cheek in her hand, and Call’s brow furrowed, a word of comfort nearly on her lips, when Ripley leaned down and kissed her.

Maybe dying a little wasn’t so bad.

The kiss was brief. Ripley leaned her forehead against Call’s. The tension was dissipating from her face. "Let's go through the process before you switch off next time.”

Call nodded. "Sorry." She gestured to the seam resealing itself. She looked sheepish. "First time."

Ripley stayed close to her during her shift that night. 

___

Vriess and Johner opted to get off at the next port. 

"Nothing personal," Vriess had said.

Johner had disagreed. “Fuck that. It’s _very_ personal.”

So it was just the two of them on the ship. Call’s mind wandered. She rested less.

They were on their way to a planet called Forra. They weren’t working off a tip, just a hunch. Not much news had come out of Forra for years, good or bad.

Call would catch herself staring at Ripley’s graceful movements, the long line of her neck. She’d bask in the comfort of the way Ripley considered her in everything. Ripley never made her feel less than. 

Call had never dwelled on it, but sharing her life with another outsider seemed inevitable in a way: two people who couldn’t be classified as _people_ , one of them with acid blood and the other with manufactured feelings.

After another night of casual silence, Call reached her limit. Ripley had not mentioned their kiss since it happened and Call hadn’t either. Call did not do well with ambivalence. 

Call straightened her spine before she pulled open the door to her quarters... and promptly lost her nerve. She shut the door and leaned her head against the cool metal. Damn. 

She heard Ripley's solid footsteps in the cabin across the hall. She was so close. Fuck it. 

Call threw her door open again and marched across the hallway. She knocked on Ripley's door. 

Ripley opened the door with a puzzled look on her face. Before she could ask a question, Call nudged the door open further. Courage, she told herself. She reached up and took Ripley's face in both hands, standing on the tips of her toes. Ripley met her halfway, wrapping her arms around Call's waist as Call kissed her urgently. 

Ripley pulled her inside. Call toed the door shut. She turned Ripley and pinned her to the door, pressing her lips against Ripley’s again. 

”I was starting to think you weren't interested," Ripley said, mirth in her voice, as Call moved her mouth to Ripley's neck. 

"Yeah, yeah," Call said. "I didn't see you coming to _my_ room."

Call didn’t worry about her programming or much of anything at all as she pressed Ripley into the bed and made her gasp. Call lost herself in the thrill of touching Ripley.

Later, with her head pillowed on Ripley’s hip, Call realized she could not imagine herself with anyone else. With Ripley, it just worked.

___

Call managed to hack a mainframe on Forra after their search yielded no sign of her siblings. Another planet, a pay off or two, and Call got a line on a possible location of her brother, Chati.

They would keep looking as long as there was hope, and Call was not short on hope.


End file.
